The Most to Lose

by Landon, Laura

  “Should we approach them so I can explain my reasons for preferring your company to anyone else’s?”

  Her eyes opened wide as if she weren’t sure whether or not he was serious; then she hurried her steps toward Hadleigh’s box. She obviously didn’t want to take the chance that he was.

  “I take it your answer is no.”

  He opened the door, and she rushed inside. He followed after her.

  “Do you realize,” he said, stopping her from going past the velvet curtain that separated the entryway from the padded chairs at the front of the box, “that tonight is the second time you’ve questioned my motives for wanting to be with you.”

  “Oh, I’m not questioning your motives,” she said in a reassuring tone. “It’s the rest of society that can’t understand why you prefer my company to anyone else’s.”

  “Perhaps they know perfectly well why I want to be with you but are watching in fascination to see if you want to be with me.” Jonah took a step toward her, waiting to see if she’d step away from him. She didn’t.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?”

  He stepped closer. “There are many reasons.”

  Jonah couldn’t stop himself. The whole situation was too enticing—the flickering glow of the candles, the murmur of hundreds of voices from the seats below them, the feeling of seeing but not being seen, the danger of being discovered by Celie’s brother.

  “Remind me to explain them to you. Later.”

  Jonah braced his foot against the door for a second’s warning to keep someone looking for Hadleigh from barging in on them, then lowered his head and kissed her.

  She responded quickly and passionately, returning his kiss with an intensity that caused his emotions to soar.

  He hadn’t kissed her since that first time, and she melted in his arms, pressing her lush form against him.

  The moment she wrapped her arms around his neck to give more of herself to him, he knew he wasn’t remembering their first kiss correctly at all.

  He thought their other kiss had been the most powerful kiss in which he’d ever been engaged, but he knew it hadn’t been. This kiss was. Holding her in his arms, feeling her next to him. He’d never experienced anything like it.

  Their first kiss hadn’t been nearly so overwhelming. Not like this kiss was.

  Even though he didn’t kiss her nearly as long as he had before, something in their joining was more emotional, more powerful. More remarkable.

  Jonah kissed her one last time, then pulled away when he heard Hadleigh’s voice outside the doorway.

  “Take a chair, Celie. In the second row. That one. We’ll leave the front row for your brother and Lady Amanda.”

  Celie quickly took the chair he indicated, and he watched her struggle to calm her breathing. He was seated in the chair beside her when the door opened and Hadleigh and Lady Amanda entered. Their conversation didn’t seem any friendlier.

  “Do they always argue like that?” Jonah whispered, leaning close to Celie.

  “Yes. I’ve never seen any two people get along less well.”

  Hadleigh escorted Lady Amanda to the front of the box but turned back to face Jonah and Cecelia. His expression seemed about as cordial as a wild boar with a sore tooth.

  “You shouldn’t have come up without us,” he said to his sister in a scolding tone.

  Cecelia looked at her brother with the most innocent expression Jonah had ever seen.

  “Why ever not?” she said. “I was perfectly safe with Lord Haywood.”

  “Safety has nothing to do with it, Cecelia, as well you know. It’s what people will say. From now on, wait until you’re properly chaperoned. Now, would you care to sit in front with your friend?” Hadleigh indicated the chair beside where he’d deposited Lady Amanda.

  Cecelia shook her head. “I’m quite comfortable where I am, Hadleigh. I wouldn’t want to deprive you and Amanda of discussing the opera as it progresses, since you have such varying opinions of Verdi’s works.”

  “I think His Grace and I have reached an impasse as far as being able to agree on Verdi’s talents,” Lady Amanda said.

  The tone of her voice was not at all amiable, and Jonah couldn’t help but feel a great amount of humor in the scene.

  Hadleigh must strongly dislike Lady Amanda if he preferred to spend the evening in a chair next to Haywood rather than beside Celie’s friend.

  Jonah nearly laughed out loud. He suddenly realized that, even if La Traviata were the worst opera ever performed, he would enjoy it tremendously just knowing that Hadleigh was so miserable.

  “We saved you a front-row chair, Hadleigh,” he said, settling back in his chair. “Sit down. They’re snuffing the lanterns. The opera is about to begin.”

  Hadleigh had no choice but to take his seat beside Lady Amanda.

  Jonah smiled at the perfect positioning of Hadleigh’s chair in relationship to where he and Lady Cecelia sat. If the duke wanted to keep an eagle’s eye on his sister, he was forced to turn his head in Lady Amanda’s direction.

  He quickly found out that, every time he did, Lady Amanda turned toward him, and their gazes locked, each flashing with fiery anger.

  Hadleigh chose to watch the performance.

  Jonah smiled as he placed his arm across the back of Celie’s chair.

  The evening was perfect.

  Chapter 8

  Last night’s opera had been perfect. He hadn’t been able to escort Celie home, but he’d spent several pleasant hours in her company. The knowledge that Hadleigh hated every minute of the evening made the night even more special.

  Jonah sat alone at the table in the club he’d recently joined and considered the events of the night before. He shouldn’t take such pleasure in Hadleigh’s irritation, but he couldn’t help it. Hadleigh’s discomfort eased a little of the anger that appeared every time the two were in close proximity.

  Jonah relaxed into his chair and let a peaceful calm settle over him. This time of day was usually quiet here, and he found he preferred it to the more fashionable hours when most of the tables were full. He could think more clearly, could sort through the confusing path his life had taken.

  So many things had happened that would have been impossible three years ago.

  When he’d first applied for membership, he wasn’t sure he’d be accepted, but his position was different now. Not only did he hold a title, but he’d returned from the war with a reputation of sorts. It was also possible that word of his close association with the Duke of Hadleigh’s sister helped pave the way for him. He wondered what would happen if and when he no longer paid her court.

  He tipped the full bottle that sat on his table and put a small amount of the exquisite brandy in his glass. He took a long swallow as memory of the kiss they’d shared replayed in his mind. He hadn’t anticipated Cecelia to affect him like she did. The reaction from her kiss had been a thousand times more powerful than he’d anticipated it would be. His body’s reaction took him completely by surprise.

  When he’d felt her fingers skiff through his hair, he thought he might lose control. He’d wanted her more at that moment than he’d ever wanted any woman before in his life. He still wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman before. His greatest fear was that this feeling wouldn’t lessen, but increase with every day that passed.

  He took another swallow of brandy, then shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He needed a cold bath. “Hell,” he muttered beneath his breath. He needed a woman. He’d been without one too long. That’s all that was the matter with him.

  Perhaps when he left here, he’d seek out one of Madam Genevieve’s most expensive girls. Maybe afterward, remembering the kiss he’d shared with Cecelia wouldn’t seem so life altering.

  He set his glass down on the table and breathed an agonizing sigh. He wouldn’t seek out one of Madam Genevieve’s girls. What made him think a stranger could make what he’d shared with Cecelia any less earth-shattering?

  He moved his gla
ss from left to right as he considered what was happening. His plan wasn’t going at all like he’d thought it would. He’d intended to pay her court once or twice—just often enough for Hadleigh to take note and demand he never approach his sister again. His intent had been to irritate Hadleigh, then abandon his pursuit of his sister in search of a bride with a large enough dowry to provide him with the money he needed to cover his debts.

  Finding a bride who would come with a large dowry was essential. Unfortunately, for as much as Lady Cecelia consumed his dreams both day and night, a future with her wasn’t possible. Hadleigh would never allow anything to develop between them. And if they went against his wishes, Cecelia would come to him penniless.

  He shoved his glass away from him and sat back in his chair. He was destitute. As things stood now, he didn’t know how much longer he could support himself, let alone a wife. Let alone a lady, the daughter of a duke and duchess.

  He swallowed the last of his brandy, then slid back his chair to leave.

  “Sit down, Haywood. We need to talk.”

  Jonah slowly lifted his gaze to meet Hadleigh’s firm glare. Neither moved for several long moments, then Jonah slid closer to the table. “I didn’t know you were a member here, Hadleigh. If I had, I wouldn’t have—”

  “I’m not. I’m here to see you.”

  Hadleigh pulled out a chair. When he was seated, a waiter placed a glass in front of him and filled it with brandy. Hadleigh slowly lifted the glass and drank.

  Jonah stretched his long legs out in a relaxed manner and waited. There was obviously something on Hadleigh’s mind, but Jonah wasn’t going to beg to hear what it was.

  The duke took another swallow, then set his glass down. “I want to know your intentions.”

  “Intentions? Are you talking about Lady Cecelia?”

  His gaze narrowed. “You know damn well that’s who I’m talking about. How long do you intend to let her believe you enjoy her company?”

  Jonah let a broad smile cover his face. “Do you find it so impossible that I find it pleasurable to be with her?”

  “Don’t play me for the fool, Haywood. The only reason you take pleasure in being with her is because you know I find your attentions to her disgusting. You wouldn’t give her a second glance if she weren’t my sister.”

  “Oh, Hadleigh. What a low opinion you have of your sister.”

  “The only person deserving my low opinion is you, Haywood. You have poisoned my sister’s mind the same as you poisoned Melisande’s. If I allow you to associate with Cecelia, you’ll destroy her the same as you destroy every woman with whom you associate.”

  A bolt of rage shattered inside him. “What happened to Melisande has nothing to do with my association with your sister.”

  Hadleigh’s glare turned more irate. “Everything you think, everything you touch, every action you make is connected to what happened to Melisande and will have the same fatal results.”

  Jonah met Hadleigh’s glare and held it. He refused to be the first to look away. Refused to be the first to yield. He was tired of being blamed for what happened that night.

  Except he knew Hadleigh would never believe the truth.

  With his gaze still leveled with his enemy’s, he lifted his glass. “Why are you here?” he demanded, looking over the rim.

  “Why do you think I’ve come?”

  Jonah took a swallow, then lowered his glass. “My guess is that you are here to see me because you attempted to forbid your sister from seeing me and she refused.” Jonah pushed his glass on the table as if it were a chess piece. “What’s your next move, Hadleigh?”

  Jonah felt the growing anger and bitterness build inside Hadleigh. Loathing and resentment swirled around him like a living, breathing monster. The hatred that had been a part of his life for so long was so intense Jonah doubted Hadleigh was able to think without animosity souring his thoughts.

  Finally, Hadleigh loosened his tightly fisted hands and leveled Jonah with a narrowed glare. “I’ve already lost Melisande. I refuse to let you take Cecelia from me, too.”

  “I took no one from you,” Jonah said through clenched teeth. “Melisande alone was responsible for what happened that night. And if you lose Lady Cecelia, it will be because of your own doing.”

  Hadleigh pressed his lips together as if he didn’t trust what words might pass through them if he opened them. Jonah wondered what profanities would spew forth if he did. Enough time finally passed before he could speak.

  “I have chosen to give Cecelia enough time to see your true colors for herself. I’ve chosen to let her discover your dark nature on her own. Like you said, she’s an intelligent individual. It won’t take her long to discover the wretch you are.”

  Jonah evaluated Hadleigh’s words. He tried to accept them at face value, but that was difficult. Hatred had bound Hadleigh and him together for so long that Jonah found it inconceivable to think his archenemy was offering his sister such an open rein. That he was offering Jonah a truce of sorts. He hated him too much.

  “If you lose your sister, it won’t be because of anything I do.”

  “If I lose my sister, it will be because you have stolen her from me. It will be because you think so little of her that you will use her to exact your revenge upon me. Nothing is beyond what you will do. You’ve already proven that. But I am warning you…”

  Hadleigh leaned forward. The fury written in his eyes would have caused a weaker man to stagger backward.

  Jonah answered his glare with one of his own.

  “If you so much as cause my sister one minute of heartache, there will be no lengths to which I won’t go to destroy you.”

  Jonah clamped his teeth together so hard his jaw ached from the pressure. It was all he could do to keep from leaping across the table and knocking Hadleigh to the floor. It was all he could do to keep from pummeling his fist into Hadleigh’s smug, condescending expression. All he could do to keep from beating his archenemy to a bloody pulp.

  “Don’t you dare threaten me, Hadleigh. You have no power over me.”

  “No, but I do over Cecelia. Or at least what you can gain by pursuing her.”

  Jonah studied the sadistic expression on Hadleigh’s face.

  “You think my sister is the answer to your problems, but she isn’t. You are penniless, Haywood. Your father and brother spent every pound on which they could lay their hands. They left you without even a solid roof over your head.”

  Jonah tried to keep the edge of fury from his voice but knew he’d failed. “My finances, or lack thereof, are my concern. Not yours.”

  “They’re mine when you involve my sister in your misbegotten plan to save what your father nearly lost.” Hadleigh lowered his voice when he spoke. “You are destitute. All of London knows it. You have no choice but to marry a female who will come with a large enough dowry to cover your debts and repair your dilapidated Haywood Abbey.”

  Jonah’s temper burned hotter. “Is that why you’re here? Do you think you can offer me enough money to cut my association with your sister?”

  Hadleigh focused on the brandy in his glass for several long moments. With an unsteady hand, he picked it up and took a drink. “You have no idea how I wish that’s exactly what I could do,” he said when he’d lowered the glass. “But Cecelia would hate me forever when she discovered I paid you to abandon her. And she would find out. I’m not enough of a fool to think she wouldn’t. I have no choice but to pray that, in time, Cecelia will discover what kind of wretch you are for herself.”

  Jonah leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Just how do you intend to do that?”

  “By giving you exactly what you need.”

  Jonah tried to look relaxed, but he wasn’t. His insides churned with confusion. Then with rage. “I don’t remember having asked for anything. And if I needed something, believe me, you would be the last person I would turn to.”

  “I don’t doubt that is true, but in this, you have n
o choice. I refuse to allow the person with whom my sister is foolishly enamored to owe every merchant and gaming establishment in London massive amounts of money. I am tired of hearing the comments that my sister means nothing more to you than the means to pay your debts. I will, therefore, take care of any debts you owe so that particular belief discontinues to circulate.”

  A tidal wave of rage raced through Jonah. “I won’t take money from you.”

  The muscles twitched in Hadleigh’s jaw. “You will. Because if you don’t, it will only be a matter of hours before every creditor to whom you owe money is pounding on your door. I will see to it that they are. And that they continue to do so until you are so publicly humiliated that you can’t show your face.”

  The rage inside Jonah intensified.

  “You will also begin restoration on Haywood Abbey—immediately. If by some remote chance Cecelia does not realize what a poor excuse for a man you truly are, I refuse to think that she might be forced to live in a home as dilapidated and in need of repair as your country estate.”

  Jonah felt such furor inside he wasn’t sure he could control the emotion. He wanted to tell Hadleigh to take his pompous self-assurance with him to the grave—but he couldn’t. He, too, had overheard the comments that the only reason he paid attention to Cecelia was because of the dowry that would come with her hand. He’d heard the rumors that suggested he didn’t find anything remarkable about her but had settled on her because of her worth. And because paying court to her infuriated Hadleigh more than anything he could do.

  The first time he heard the rumors, he was filled with rage. How could anyone not realize what a unique female she was? Or that they could believe he would use her for revenge? It angered him that no one saw how special she was.

  Because of his association with her, he was being handed a golden opportunity to save everything his father had almost lost. He’d be a fool to allow his pride to refuse Hadleigh’s offer.

  But something stopped him from agreeing too readily. A little voice deep inside him warned him that Hadleigh’s offer was too good to be true. That although there didn’t seem to be a price tag associated with his offer, there was. And the cost would be more than he could pay. That, in the end, he would lose everything.